Author's Note: Tried to put it up earlier, but I couldn't log in!

OOOOOOOOOOO

A faint noise woke Beckett. Nothing odd enough to make her come awake immediately, just a noise. She stretched, warm and comfortable and not quite ready to wake fully. Then she frowned, because the room was dark and she was in a bed. She stretched again and rolled over onto her back to stare up at a ceiling she couldn't quite see. She couldn't remember going to bed. For that matter, she didn't remember falling asleep. She thought back. Dinner was easy to remember, and she was pretty sure she remembered her and Castle sitting on the couch munching on popcorn while they watched TV, but then things got a little fuzzy and she realized she must have fallen asleep. But she didn't remember going to bed no matter how hard she concentrated. Awake enough now to realize that the room wasn't completely dark – there was a strip of light coming from the partially opened door – she pushed off the blankets and rolled out of bed.

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she walked out into the living room to check on Castle. The writer wasn't asleep. For that matter, he wasn't even on the couch. Beckett found him standing in front of the flat screen, holding a cup of coffee and staring at the TV. A quick glance told her that he was watching the video feed and not a show on one of the channels.

"Castle?"

He looked over and flashed her a smile.

"You're awake."

She nodded, fighting back a yawn.

"What time is it?"

He didn't mention she had a watch on. Instead, he looked at the screen.

"About 2am."

"Why are you still up?"

"Couldn't sleep."

Beckett frowned at that. He certainly looked tired. All the good that his earlier nap seemed to do for him was pretty much washed away, because he had dark circles under his eyes. He had, however, changed into a t-shirt and a pair of sweats.

"What time did I fall asleep?"

"About ten or so."

Which was far earlier than she normally did – but she hadn't had a lot of sleep the night before, so it made sense.

"I don't remember going to bed."

Now his smile was a little more like his old self.

"I put you to bed. I don't think you woke up at all."

"You carried me?"

"Mmm-hmm."

"That must have hurt your arms."

He shook his head.

"My shoulders hurt when I try to lift my hands above my head. I wasn't bench pressing you, just carrying you. Didn't hurt at all."

He didn't mention that he'd rather enjoyed it.

She walked over and stood beside him, trying to think of something to say to that. Since nothing came to mind, she decided to change the subject.

"What are you doing? Spying on the neighbors?"

Castle shook his head.

"The cameras don't go into their yards. Although a couple of the neighborhood cats have been roaming back and forth through the yard – and I think I saw a bat, but it was going pretty fast, so I could be wrong."

"What are you looking for, then?"

"Nothing. Just watching the night go by and thinking…" He looked over at her. "Do you want a cup of coffee?"

"I should check in with the precinct."

"The patrol guys are coming by at irregular times every 12 minutes or so," he told her, gesturing to the camera feed. "They don't stop, though, they just slow down."

"They're supposed to be circumspect," she said.

"They are."

They stood there side by side for a moment, and then Beckett went and made her phone call and found that they didn't have any new information on either the case of the dead man with Castle's wallet, or the woman – although Esposito had left her a message advising they'd be by the next morning for some follow up.

"I think Jeremy is a doctor," Castle told her when she got off the phone. He didn't look away from the screen, and she could see his jaw tighten just a little.

"Why do you say that?" she asked, curiously, coming back over to stand with him again – this time with a cup of coffee.

He shook his head.

"I remember seeing someone in a doctor's outfit – I think it was him."

"With a white lab coat?" Beckett asked. "Or scrubs?"

"Scrubs."

"Then he might not actually be a doctor," she pointed out. "He could be a nurse, or a radiologist, or even a janitor, maybe."

Castle shrugged his acceptance of that.

"Maybe."

"Do you remember anything else?"

"Flashes of darkness, pain… yelling… Jeremy mostly, but a woman, too…"

"The dead woman?"

He shook his head, refusing to look from the screen he was staring at without seeing it.

"I don't know. It's all a jumbled mess, and every time I close my eyes all I see is darkness…"

Which explained why he wasn't even trying to sleep. Like his friend Doctor Cutter had told him, his mind was trying to remember. Obviously they weren't fun memories. Beckett reached over and took his coffee cup from him and set both hers and his down on the table.

"You don't have to face them alone, you know. I'm here."

"It's not something you can help me with, Kate," he said, his eyes bleak, now, as he realized the truth in that statement. "Until I figure out what I don't remember, it's so chaotic that I-"

"I can help you," she told him. "Not with the memories, maybe, but the thing you need most is sleep. Things won't look as bad if you're not reeling from lack of sleep, and that would be a good start. Right?"

"I'm not tired," he said, stubbornly.

"Yes, you are." She took his hand. "Come with me, Castle."

She felt just a bit of hesitation, but he didn't pull his hand from hers, and he didn't plant his feet, so he was forced to follow her as she walked back to the bedroom. She turned on the light with her free hand, and only then did he stop, his grip on her hand tightening.

"Kate…"

"I'll be here," she promised, pulling him to the bed and pushing him down onto it. "You won't be alone like you were."

He shook his head, and she couldn't miss the frightened look in his expression. She decided that he must have tried sleeping when she had – or maybe he'd fallen asleep around the same time she had – and had had some kind of nightmare. Something nasty enough to literally make him scared to go back to sleep.

"I'll just go to the couch," he said. "It's no big deal. I'll-"

"Hey." Beckett stopped his protest by putting her finger against his lips. Simple, but extremely effective. "Lay down."

Castle clearly didn't want to, but he did. He positioned the pillows that she'd abandoned only a short time before so that he was more sitting up than laying down, but Beckett wasn't going to quibble with him about that. She gave him an encouraging smile and reached out to brush his hair back from his forehead with her hand. She wasn't too surprised that he was sweating. It was all nerves, she knew. He positioned himself on his side, probably to ease the ache on his bruises. Beckett settled in beside him, above the blankets, of course, but it was warm enough that she didn't really need to be covered up.

"This is a bad idea, Kate…" he told her, his tired gaze locking on hers.

"The two of us in bed together, you mean?" she asked, hoping to tease a little of that tension away.

"No. That will never be a bad thing." He sighed, and relaxed marginally into the pillow, too tired to stay as tense as he was. "This whole thing is crazy…"

"I know." Beckett reached for his hand and squeezed it. "We'll get through it, though. You'll see."

He kept hold of her hand, unwilling to let go just then. She was a lot steadier than he was and he knew it. If she was willing to share that confidence with him, he'd accept it. Gratefully. But he knew that she wasn't going to be able to save him from his own memories. That was something he was going to have to get through on his own, and he knew that it meant facing them eventually. Not right then – he wasn't ready to even try – but morning would be soon enough, hopefully.

"Maybe tomorrow I can look through some mug shots or something," he said, feeling her brush her fingers against his cheek with her free hand. It was reassuring and he blinked. Once, twice, and a third time. Each a little longer than the one before. "I might see someone I recognize."

"We can try that," she murmured, watching the tension drain out of him as he tried to think of ways he could help. He was falling asleep in the middle of the conversation, and she was going to try to make it happen as effortlessly as possible for him. "It certainly couldn't hurt."

His eyes closed, but opened almost immediately, and he started to jerk awake, but she made a soothing sound and continued to caress his cheek and then his temple with her fingers. He relaxed again, and his eyes closed again.

"You won't leave me?" he mumbled.

"No," she promised him in a soft whisper. "I won't leave you. Sleep, Rick. I'll keep the dreams away."

"It's dark…" he murmured, not opening his eyes, now.

"I'm here."

With that reassurance, he sighed again, and fell asleep.